


overriding the obessesion

by mr_charles



Series: Alana Runs The Show [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: D/s undertones, F/M, dom!Beverly, dom!alana, sub!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_charles/pseuds/mr_charles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beverly knows what Will needs. Alana knows what Will wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Jamie, the lovely love who posted this prompt on Tumblr.

_Jesus Christ, it's like high school all over again,_ Beverly thinks dryly as Will slowly thrusts into her. He's all but sobbing into her neck, small hiccups wetly bursting out whenever she twists the scarf knotted tightly around his neck.

The position, in the backseat of Beverly's truck, isn't ideal. But it's nearly 2am, two hours after Will called claiming he'd seen a woman at the dead girl's house.

"I-I-I know she was there and she was trying to tell me something but I don't know what it was and-" Will is all but raving around on the grounds outside the house.

"Graham!" Beverly's voice is sharp, nearly identical to Crawford's bark. "What do you need?" Beverly half expects him to say something like "Call Price and Zeller" or even "Call Dr. Lecter".

Instead Will says nothing.

"Will," Beverly is cautious, approaching him as if he were a lost dog, "what do you need?"

The look in his eye gives it all away. She had a boyfriend who was like that in med school, a boyfriend who needed Beverly's Special Brand of Control to take it all away.

"Will." She's still using that cautious tone. "Get in the backseat of my truck. Do I need to tell you what to do?"

He shakes his head before stumbling towards the truck. With a sigh, Beverly texts Zeller, who had been in the lab with her when Will called. She says she's not coming back because Will's lost his damn mind and needs to get back to safety. She takes her time getting to the truck. It's been too long since someone has needed her in This Way and the sensation is nearly intoxicating.

Will is naked and shivering, curled up in the far corner of the wide backseat. He looks more like a lost child, alone and shivering in the world... except the frigid night has done nothing to quell Will's arousal.

Beverly's impressed.

She grabs her scarf from the front seat before settling in the back across from Will. She ties the scarf (a frilly yellow thing) around Will’s neck before starting on her own clothes.

“No.” She smacks Will’s hands away when he reaches for her jeans. When there’s nothing left but a small scrap of lace that vaguely resembles underwear, she reaches for him by the ends of the yellow scarf. “Kiss me,” she demands.

The kiss he places on her lips is dry, nearly chaste.

“What am I, your mother? Kiss me like you mean it.”

The fire ignites then. He’s all passion and hurt and anger and-

“Fuck!” Beverly presses her fingers to the bite on her lower lip.

“I’m sorry!” The words are desperate coming from Will’s bruised mouth. He sounds like a naughty boy who fears being sent to bed without supper.

“Kiss me,” is all Beverly says, wrapping the end of the scarf in her fist. He leans in again, but she stops him. He nods; he gets it, and goes for the soft skin at her throat. The kisses he places down her body are practiced, tentative, and Beverly assumes he’s on some sort of sexual autopilot.

“Oh Jesus.” He uses the rough lace of her panties as a tool to get her off, kissing her through the fabric. He presses his tongue against her clit through the rough material, flicking it quickly as if he was actually eating her out. The orgasm is nearly painful.

He’s crying when he pulls back up. The tears are constant down his face and Beverly is half-tempted to call this all off and drive him home but-

“Please.”

He’s buried inside her before Beverly has time to process how she ended up flat on her back when she’s supposed to be in control. The scarf brushes her nipples in a delightful way as he slowly fucks her.

Had they been in a relationship, Beverly might even refer to this as “making love”.

She keeps the scarf twisted in her fist, twisting and turning it as they fuck. She’s worried about choking him but when a brief muscle spasm in her forearm causes her to roughly jerk the fabric, Will cries out and thrusts harder. His fingers are clumsy as he presses her clit; it’s almost adorable.

Beverly’s half tempted to ask if it’s his first time.

Her orgasm is a slow build, a smolder in her sex. Will’s thrusts are shorter now, desperate for the final piece of friction that’ll get him off.

There’s an idea brewing in Beverly’s mind. She strokes his sweaty curls. “It’s okay, Will. You can do it.” Do what? Come? Solve the case? Keep what shreds of his sanity remain? “I got you, baby. Come on.”

He gasps out her name as he comes, breathing hot on Beverly’s neck. The cold is seeping back into the truck.

“You didn’t…?” Will’s lips are swollen and wet with saliva and tears. He looks absolutely broken.

“It’s okay,” Beverly smiles at him. It’s not a lie, not really. She can always take care of it at home. A broken and debauched Will Graham is a lovely sight to behold.

Will says nothing. He pulls his softened cock out and pushes two fingers inside of her. She’s wetter than she thought she’d be, especially when Will’s thumb begins to circle her clit. A shocked little moan tumbles out of her mouth when she comes. Will smiles, a broken grin that looks more like a snarl.

She kisses him, one last time, before asking “Do I need to drive you home?”

He shakes his head before getting dressed and going back to his own car.

Beverly lets him keep the scarf.


	2. Chapter 2

“If you come on that chair, you’re cleaning it up. Again.” Alana’s voice is steady. Will stops rutting against the leather of the arm of Alana’s plush chair (the one she uses for _therapy_ for fuck’s sake) and mutters an apology. “I can’t hear you, Will.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?’

“I’m sorry… Dr. Bloom.”

“Good boy.” Alana returns to her paperwork. Will’s straddling the arm of the chair with a vibrator shoved up his ass. Every so often, almost as if she were checking her phone, Alana presses a new set of buttons. This new configuration has two rapid buzzes followed by a drawn out pulse. His back faces her, giving him space to rub against the chair. He thinks it’s because she likes seeing him push and fuck himself on the toy. The base is resting on the arm of the chair. It’s a lurid blue.

“I see the bruises from our last session have healed nicely.”

“I-I used the lotion you sent me home with. Dr. Bloom.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Will’s stomach drops. Did-

“Beverly didn’t tell me. She didn’t have to.” Alana’s voice is even, eerily calm. “I can almost smell it on you. You no longer reek like a virgin.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Bloom.”

Alana shuts the toy off. Will whines.

“Don’t apologize. Turn around, face me.”

Will awkwardly clambers off the toy before turning to face Alana. There’s a little pink on her ears, indicating her arousal but her resolve is iron. A small intake of breath is all the indication Will gets as he settles himself on the toy.

“Tell me what happened.”

This is what gets Alana off. Twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6 to 8pm, Will Graham fucks himself with a different toy while describing his sexual fantasies in depth to Alana. Sometimes she beats him, using a small flogger she keeps in the false bottom of her desk drawer. She makes him lick up his mess, wherever it falls. If he’s lucky, he gets to taste her. Her porcelain knees will squeeze the sides of his head while she all but rides his face.

It does wonders for his stability.

“I had a breakdown at a crime scene. Beverly took me to her truck and let me fuck her in it.” Will’s face burns in shame. Should he have waited for Alana?

“And?” Will was hoping he could get out of this with only minor details. “And keep fucking yourself. I didn’t say you could stop.”

“She tied a scarf around my neck and used it like a leash.” His hand comes up to grip lightly as his neck as the moment replays in his head. He’s fucking the toy in earnest now.

“Would you like me to put a collar and a leash on you, Will?” There’s a playful note in Alana’s voice. “Maybe make you crawl on all fours around Quantico. Would you like that?”

Will says nothing. The image of him stark naked with a toy in him being led around by a fully dressed Alana (she never strips for their sessions; even when he licks her, she just removes her panties and pulls her skirt up) by a leash is a dizzying image.

“Yes,” he answers after a long moment.

“Did you make Ms. Katz come, Will? Were you a gentleman with her?”

“Yes. I made sure she-“ he always stutters on this word “-came twice.”

“Good boy.” She sets her paperwork down and walks towards him. Sitting in the chair opposite to him, she asks, “Are you about to come, Will?”

He’s grinding hard against the toy now. “Yes,” he whimpers.

“Don’t.” He whimpers but slows his movements. “Do you want to fuck me, Will?”

“Yes, Dr. Bloom.” His pale thighs shake with effort.

“How would you do it, Will? Would you take me roughly from behind? Would you make sweet love to me?”

“I’d want you to- you to…” his words falter as Alana strips.

“Keep talking.” She’s folding her blue button down and jeans on the chair. Her boots have been kicked underneath. Her bra, a sensible white, doesn’t match the dark green of her panties.  She stands close to him, close enough that he has to look up to see her face. A strangle smile plays at her lips.

“I’d want you to ride me. I want to see your body.”

She giggles, actually giggles at that. “Clean the toy and put it back where it belongs. Then lay on the carpet.”

Will nods before carefully cleaning the used vibrator and putting it back in the false drawer bottom. As soon as he settles on the carpet, Alana is naked and straddling him. A few fumbles but soon he’s inside her. She grinds against him, using him for her own pleasure. He’s fighting the urge to come but the image of _dark hair pale skin pink mouth pink nipples_ is eroding his resolve. A few flicks of his fingers against her clit and she comes with a low moan that makes the hair of the back of Will’s neck prickle.

“Don’t touch yourself when you get home,” she orders as she redresses. “Don’t do it the next day or the next. In fact, don’t touch yourself until our next session. Goodnight Will.”

She sits back at her desk and resumes her paperwork like nothing happened. Will dresses, leaves, and drives home. Beverly’s yellow scarf lies on his passenger seat, conjuring dual images of her soft noises and Alana’s harsh demands. It’s hours later when he’s safe in his bed that he receives a text message from Alana.

 _I’m cancelling Thursday to lecture. I’ll see you next Tuesday. Good luck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might rewrite this or do a remix later on. I feel there is more to be done here.

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahahahaha i am so sorry.
> 
> i take prompts.


End file.
